By The Sword Divided
by Salmonpuff
Summary: Includes Edward Sexby, Oliver Cromwell, John Lilburne and Thomas Rainsborough from channel 4's The Devil's Whore. What would happen if a group of modern reenactors found themselves in the middle of the english civil war?
1. The Big What If?

**ONE**

**CHERITON, HAMPSHIRE – 27th****th**** March 2008**

The heavens opened and Sarah Young groaned as the raindrops hit the roof of her tent making little pattering noises which seemed to get louder and louder by the second. Not that she minded of course, she was sheltered and warm and that was good enough for her. It just meant that every time she wanted to use the toilet she would have to trudge half way across a muddy field. But that came with being in the Sealed Knot, one had to be prepared for wet weather and stupidly hot days, often both at the same time. Smiling to herself, she ran a hand through her soggy blonde hair and began to sort out her kit, placing it on her sleeping matt ready to change into. It was cold, and so she thought it a good idea to change into the seventeenth century military gear before going up onto guard duty. The thick woolen coat kept the cold out quite easily. Then, slowly and steadily she began to get into the gear, beginning with the hose and breeches, tying the legs with the red ties. Then her white shirt and green Tilliers jacket. Finally she put her open latchets on, followed by her floppy hat with its side pinned up with a musket pin. She knew without having to look at herself in a mirror that she looked good, that she looked smart. She would even better during the battle tomorrow, when she had her musket by her side.

With a smile, she unzipped her tent and stepped out into the rain. Wrinkling her nose, she began to walk her way towards the gate guard box, where a fire was blazing and sending sparks into the night. Already she could see that there was a group of people stood around there, laughing and having a few drinks. All of them were in kit, in keeping with the theme of the weekend.

"Hey Sarah!"

The high pitched northern accent of Charlotte Green floated across the muddy campsite as she trudged her way towards the makeshift guardhouse, and she couldn't help but smile. Charlotte, or Omar as she was better known had been a good friend since she had first joined the Sealed Knot, and had helped her immensely with preparing for her musket test.

"Hey guys," she said with a smile, slipping in by the fire and warming her hands

"Glad to see you got here all right. Good journey?"

She nodded at Paul Wilson, who was busy smoking a cigarette, "Yeah, the roads were pretty grim but you know me…I managed."

He nodded and went silent again, puffing away on his cigarette. She followed his example, reaching into the pocket of her breeches and pulling out a packet of Marlboros and sparking up. She inhaled deeply, glancing around the small crowd on guard duty. A bottle of port was being passed around, which she happily took her swig before passing it to the left. Conversation was good, they laughed and for the first time in a long time, Sarah felt like she belonged. The past few weeks had been a bad time in general involving messing her life up at university, messing up relationships and going through bouts of serious depression. The only thing that had gotten her through was being in the sealed knot, surrounded by good people and the fact that she had just passed her musket test just made things all the better. The people in Henry Tilliers Regiment, reenactors of the English civil war, were her family.

"Sarah?"

She jumped, sending cigarette ash all down her jacket, "Wha…?"

Omar giggled, "We were just talking about something that you might like seeing as you're an archaeology student."

"Ok, hit me"

Omar grinned, "How do you think we would react if, as a regiment, we were transported to 1644?"

She blinked, "Wow…that's a tough one…"

She let her mind wander, imagining what her reaction would be if she ended up slap bang in the middle of a battlefield with just a musket to protect her, "I think we'd all be shit scared. Imagine, finding yourself in the middle of a battle, with real guns and real pikes and the danger of death on you at every single moment. What we do is play act, we play at war, I really don't think we could handle being in a real battle…"

There was a murmer of agreement from the surrounding crowd and even Richard Pearce, the commanding officer who was most likely to disagree, was nodding his head. Yet she knew there was a counter argument being thrown her way, and when it hit her she knew exactly who spoke the words.

"Bollocks. We may play at war but as a regiment we've got the fighting spirit that so often lacked during the civil war. Plus, we know how to use the muskets properly. We'd kick arse."

They came from luke, the regiments ladies man and general argumentative idiot who could, at times, be lovely. The only problem for Sarah was, that he was her ex and one of the ones who had sent her spiraling out of control. She shook her head, "That's just it, do we know how to use the muskets properly? The armies back then had the full on experience of using one everyday, with real musket balls, not just wadding. Our block uses them once in a blue mood and even then we just use them as clubs mainly…the real royalist army would certainly show us a thing or two. At least if we went there we could see what mistakes we're making as a society I suppose…"

She lapsed into silence, listening as they laughed and joked about what they would do in such a situation. Wenches were mentioned copious times, as was alcohol yet she couldn't laugh with them. She knew that if they were magically transported back there, then they would be in for a serious shock and it would be very likely that they wouldn't survive. She looked up and caught luke looking at her with those cold blue eyes. She shuddered to herself, trying not to remember the time they spent together, yet could not help but look back at him. She knew he was mocking her.

Turning on her heel, she muttered her goodnight wishes to everyone and stalked back to the campsite, determined to be away from those cold, cold eyes. Yet as she crawled her way back into her tent, the memory of those cold as ice blue eyes faded into images of a musket block clad all in green. She smelt fresh gunpowder mixed with blood, and as she sat down atop of her sleeping bag she saw the dead. So many dead. Faces she knew and loved, faces of her friends. And as she lay down to go to sleep, the last thing she saw was her own face, black eyes staring up at a dark sky, a musket still smoking in her cold, dead hands.


	2. The World Turns Upside Down

"MAKE READY!"

Sarah began to go through the loading tasks that she had been drilled so often in. Bringing her pride and joy up to the port posture, she opened the pan and loaded it with gunpowder before closing it and casting off the loose powder. Then she cast the musket about her and charged the barrel with powder and wadding, using her scouring stick to push the mixture down the barrel. Returning the stick, she brough her musket back up to port, waiting for her orders.

"Enemy to your fore, PRESENT!"

With a small grin, she aimed the musket towards the parliamentarian block, keeping Manchesters Regiment's in her sight.

"GIVE FIRE!"

She pulled the trigger, making the match hit the lock, and with a massive bang and plume of gunpowder smoke she fired towards the enemy. All around her, muskets gave fire. She could hardly see through the smoke except for jackets of red sinking to the ground and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Second rank, recover!"

Turning about to the left, she moved back to her space in the block beside Omar, "We're slaughtering em!"

Omar grinned, stroking her musket, "That's cuz we're just kick ass!"

Sarah laughed and began to go through the loading procedure again, all the time aware that the opposition were getting ready to fire, all the time aware that the pikeblocks had gone into another push. The battle of Cheriton 2008 was really getting heated now and she could hear the shouts of the pikeblock, the bangs of the muskets and the roar of the cannons.

"Sarah!"

She stopped and turned, her musket still in the port position and saw her musket commander staring in horror at her, "What?"

"WATCH OUT!"

She turned, saw directly in front of her were 2 members of Carrs regiment lighting the fuse on a cannon. There was no time for her to move, and she knew that she was way too close to stop any sort of injury. It wasn't loaded with a cannon ball, but burns from the powder could be fatal. Time seemed to slow down, she wanted to scream but the sound just wouldn't come. She dropped her musket, and even that seemed to take hours to fall. The cannon was lit, and the members of Carr's realized too late what was happening, seemed to shout something at her, but she just couldn't hear them. She flinched, seeing the flames lick out of the side of the cannon, ducked away and covered her ears. Something seemed to hit her, and everything went black.

***

"Is he ok?"

"Oi mate, you pissed or owt?"

Sarah groaned and sat up quickly, her head pounding. The last thing she remembered was seeing that cannon blow up in front of her, and now as her vision cleared she could see two faces looking down on her. She frowned, not recognizing them at all. One was a young man, with dark hair pulled back beneath a Montero hat and the other was an older man, dressed much more elaborately with a large white plume sticking out of his black felt hat.

"where am I?" she groaned

The younger one grinned, "Christ lad, must be a right knock you took. You're in Cheriton, well…in the old farmhouse at Cheriton. We found you and a bunch of your regiment zonked out in the courtyard, didn't realize Tilliers were down this way."

She frowned and massaged her head, "Reenacting…"

The older one raised an eyebrow, "What you talking about lad. You're here to fight for your king, to take down Wallers army. We've gotta defend this place and stop those blasted parliamentarians from getting to London…"

She shook her head, "I don't understand…I don't remember…there was a cannon…where the hell am I?"

The younger one laughed loudly, "Too much ale lad, that's what's got to you!"

She tried to stand up, but her legs failed her and she sat down again, "What year is this?"

The young man fell silent, "You do not even remember the year?" He frowned, "Lad, it is the year of our lord sixteen hundred and forty four…"

Her eyes widened, and she looked around the demolished farmhouse, taking in the piles of stonework from demolished walls and the burnt and overturned furniture, "Is this some kind of a sick joke?! Just a minute ago, I was in the middle of a field, with my musket, and there was this cannon and it hit me, and now this? Oh Jesus…"

"Definitely too much ale…"

She glared at the older man, "Too much ale? Too much ale? Fuck you! Let me out of here!"

Suddenly, she heard shouts from outside, all of which sounded familiar. Shouts of confusion, shouts of alarm. She stood up and staggered towards one of the holes in the walls, ignoring the protests from the two men, and immediately saw the entirety of her regiment coming round from being apparently knocked out. They all had their weapons, all were dressed in kit, and as they each came round in turn they all looked incredibly confused.

"Where's the crowd?"

"Blabber? What the fuck is going on?"

"Where the fuck are we?"

Sarah staggered forward, seeing Omar staggering to her feet, "Omar? Charlotte? You ok?"

Omar looked at her, confusion in her eyes, "Yeah. Where the heck are we?"

Sarah shrugged, "According to those two muppets in there, we're in 1644…" her eyes travelled across the field where she could see scouts riding across the field on horseback, "1644…Cheriton…"

Omar blinked, "No way…we were only talking about this last night…"

Sarah sighed and pulled her jacket closer around her, realizing what this meant. It meant that all women fighting in the musket block would have to conceal their identities. It meant that they had to learn how to fight as soldiers. It meant that come tomorrow, all of them could be dead..

"I know…Somehow we've gone back in time…" she glanced around at each and every member of the regiment who had gone silent and were listening avidly at her, "Tilliers weren't originally in the battle…but we sure as hell are now…"


	3. Dutch Courage

The regiment was silent that evening as they sat around the camp fire. Feelings were, as could be expected, pretty low and many of them sat cradling bottles of wine and tankards of ale. Just after they had found themselves thrown into seventeenth century army life, they had been ordered by the Lord Ralph Hopton to move up to Gander Down, where they would form up in battalia and wait until the morning. Forming up in Battalia had of course, failed and lead to the thousands of Royalists troops doing their own thing.

Sarah sighed. Meeting Ralph Hopton had been a plus, although he had shouted at her for apparently 'being drunk'. These people could not, and would not understand that Henry Tilliers Regiment were not supposed to be there and that they were completely in the wrong time. They had decided as a regiment that maybe talking about 2008 was a bad idea, and could lead to some pretty nasty happenings. And Sarah knew what those nasty happenings could be. If any of the girls were caught, they would be executed. If they made too much of a big deal out of being from the future, they would all be accused of withcraft.

They had found themselves slap bang in the middle of the English Civil War, on the eve of battle. They knew the outcome well. They knew what would happen at 8am the following morning. They knew that come 4pm tomorrow afternoon, they would likely all be dead.

With a sigh Sarah reached into her snapsack and pulled out her tobacco pipe. Cigarettes were of course, not allowed here even though she had an almost full pack in her bag. Biting her lip, she filled the bowl with tobacco and lit it sneakily with her zippo lighter. She inhaled deeply, relishing the taste of the tobacco and wishing that there was something else in there to calm her down. She was breaking out into cold sweats, clutching the barrel of her musket so tight that her hands went white.

"Are you ok Sarah?"

She looked up at Paul, who had just come and sat next to her. She gave him a small smile and shrugged, "Truth be told Paul, I'm shitting myself. We all know what's gunna happen tomorrow when the battle starts…"

Paul nodded but said nothing. He too was obviously scared. As were the rest of the regiment. She glanced round, saw Owen and Dan making their way through a bottle of strong wine which they had found in the old farmhouse. Both of them were swaying and looking very unwell. Omar was sat slightly away from them with a pipe, staring into space. Again, she had a bottle of wine by her side. The water ladies Amanda and Lyn were sat together, not talking. They were all distinctly quiet, none more so than their ensign, Dave. Sarah had never seen him so quiet and reserved.

With a sigh, she grabbed the bottle of wine from paul and stood up.

"GUYS!"

Nothing was said, they all just looked at her.

"Ok! I know we're all really annoyed that we're here! And I know we're all shit scared because we know what's going to happen tomorrow. And I mean we know…"

She glanced at John Seal, who nodded grimly

"But listen, we all know what we're doing. We have been trained to such high standards that those parliamentarian bastards aren't going to know what's hit them! Tilliers are one of the most feared regiments in the entirety of the knot. I believe we can get through this, I KNOW we can get through this…even though, truth be told I am as terrified as any of you about what's going to happen tomorrow…but we can't let that get to us. Just imagine we're going up against Manchesters at Basing, or Hesselridge's at Midhurst. Those were scripted, but you know we fight dirty. We can get through this guys…"

She trailed off, suddenly conscious that the entire regiment was looking at her. Silence seemed to crush her for a moment, but then a small spattering of applause burst into roars of approval. She felt herself clapped on the back, felt her hand forcefully shook. More wine was pressed into her hands. Suddenly she felt a strong hand on her shoulder pull her back. She turned quickly, splashing red wine down her front and found herself face to face with Richard, the commanding officer.

"Sarah, that was a brilliant speech."

"Oh Rich…it was nothing…I was just fed up of seeing so many unhappy faces…"

He gave her a sad smile, "You do realize don't you, that not all of us will make it tomorrow…I've been talking to John…he's been telling me all about what happened here…"

She nodded, "And the lanes ran with blood…according to contemporary soures…I'm not gunna lie to you Rich…we'll be lucky to make it out alive…"

He sighed and looked across the camp at the thousands and thousands of Royalist soldiers. All were acting as if this was just another night, that this was normal. But of course, for them, it was, "Sarah…you know what happened here…both you and john…I'm handing command of the regiment over to the both of you…"

She shook her head, "But Rich…I can't command a musket block…I've only just got my test out of the way…"

He grinned, "Sarah…you think a safety test is going to matter tomorrow?"

Sighing, she shook her head, "No…I suppose not…but Rich, I'd rather fight…"

He placed a hand on her shoulder, "trust me, you'll get a chance to fight…Sarah, you will make a wonderful commander. You know how to get morale up, and you know what you are doing…"

With a smile, he handed over his halberd. She took it with shaking hands, and gave him a small, sad smile.

"I don't want to lead our lot to their deaths Rich. I don't want that on my conscience…"

He just shook his head, "We're gunna need to give you a blokes name…Samuel Young?"

With a sigh, she nodded, "Yeah, fine whatever. Are you not listening to me? I do not want this on my conscience Rich…"

But he said nothing more to her, just pushed her bac towards the throng of green clad soldiers, "All right then Men! I have handed over command of the musket block to our very own Samuel Young…"

There was a murmer of confusion for a moment before they realized what was going on. And then the loud applause. From somewhere in the noise, she heard Omar shouting a well done. By now the wine was starting to hit her and the world was spinning a bit. Something was said about John taking over full command of the regiment, there was more noise. She stumbled away from Rich, towards an area more secluded. There was a tree there, what looked like an oak tree. She didn't really care. All she wanted to do was to sit down and for the world to stop spinning. But there was someone already over there.

A slight groan escaped her lips as she neared, realizing who it was. Luke. But now that she commanded the musket, she supposed she would have to be nice to him. Or would she? At that precise moment, she didn't care.

"All right Sarah?"

She nodded, barely taking in the buff coated form of Luke, "It's Samuel now apparently…"

"Ah, of course, you're now the one to be obeyed in all that we do. I suppose that means I have to show you some respect?"

She frowned, "Well…I suppose so…"

He laughed, "Like that will ever happen! Seriously if Richard thinks you can order me about on the battlefield then I'd rather desert and go over to the dark side!"

She sighed and leant back against the tree trunk, "I came over here to escape the noise of that lot, and instead I've got you sniping at me. What the hell did I do to you Luke that has made you hate me so damned much?"

"I think you know why…"

"Why? Because you played me so badly that my mental health deteriorated? And yet you had the balls to blame everything on me! Why can't you just admit that you were in the wrong? What you did to me was awful Luke, you caused me so much hurt that I ended up on anti depressants for months. Yet you still find it, what? Funny? To make my life a misery!"

She tried standing up but her legs turned to jelly and failed her. She crashed to the ground, dropping the Halberd at the same time.

"Oh DAMNIT!" the words had escaped her lips before she could stop herself, closely followed by the tears. She leant forward, placed her head in her hands and sobbed.

"Come on Sarah…it's not that bad…"

She looked up at Luke through eyes blurred by tears, "Isn't it? You're not the one having to lead this regiment into battle tomorrow. You don't have to lead them to their deaths. You know as well as I do that tomorrow, we are all going to die. I don't want this Luke. I want to be back in 2008, where I have a house and a car and I can smoke real cigarettes…"

He sighed and gently pulled her into a hug, "look, I'm sorry I was horrible. And I really didn't know that what happened between us affected you that much. I know I was a bastard, and I'm sorry I turned every thing around on you. I had no idea it affected you that badly…"

She sighed, remembering what had happened over the last twelve months. She had been in and out of psychiatric units, on various pills, told she was depressed and schizophrenic. The past 12 months had passed in a blur of depression and happy pills.

"You're right, you have no idea. I wish the two of us could have saved some form of friendship Luke, but you made my life hell. Do you have any idea what it's like to hear voices? Do you have any idea what it's like to be on happy pills. I'm still fucking on them. And it's all because of you. All I wanted from you, while I was in the hospital, was just a phone call or a visit to tell me you were sorry…but I got nothing…"

"I didn't know…"

She raised a hand to stop him, "You did know Luke, because I know for a fact that when it was all going on, Omar reported back to everyone!"

He sighed and nodded, "All right, I did know. I wanted to come and apologise to you. But I was scared of what would happen, what you would say, what your parents would say…and then I heard that you were better and that you had moved on…I thought it best to stay out of your way…"

She looked at him, "Except you were still an arse when it came to musters…"

He shrugged, "You were a lower rank than me…"

She laughed, "Can't say that now…"

He grinned and removed his hat, letting his long dark hair fall over his shoulders, "No, I guess you're right. I suppose I'll have to show you at least some respect tomorrow…not much mind you…but a little…"

She smiled at him, feeling strangely at peace. This was the most they had talked in a long time, and she felt so much better for it.

"You'll make a great commander Sarah…sorry, Sir…that speech you gave earlier was really very good. I'm proud to serve you"

She smiled and forced herself to her feet, wiping her tears as she did so, "Thank you…get some rest soldier. You'll need it…"

Without saying another word, she picked up the Halberd and made her way back to the rest of her regiment. The drink was still flowing and the noise was getting even louder. Yet she thought she should sit it out with them, see them through the night and likely drink herself into oblivion at the same time. Just as long as there was still booze in the morning to give her some dutch courage, she didn't really care.


	4. For the King and the Court

The night stretched on with no sign of the dawn. The camp had quietened down a bit, most of the sound being soft snores and gentle talking. Sarah was sat on her own once more, clutching the Halberd close to her, an empty bottle of wine by her side. Her face had gone numb, yet it was a comfortable numb more than anything else. The kind of numb that had stopped her from feeling so terrified. The kind of numb that she wanted to stay.

She knew that the army would be rising soon for breakfast and drill. Yet what was the point in drilling, when so many of the royalist army would not be seeing tomorrow evening?

"And the lanes ran with blood…" she muttered, turning her gaze to the night sky.

The stars twinkled peacefully in the clear night sky. It almost felt like everything was normal. A small smile crept across her face as she remembered the previous summer. Camping in the new forest, sat under a night sky as beautiful as it was right then. That was just before everything had happened with Luke, it had been their first and last holiday together, and despite the cracks starting to show, it had been a beautiful and amazing few days.

***

_The fire crackled peacefully, glowing bright orange against the dark silhouettes of the trees. The girl sighed, sipping peacefully on the glass of white wine that she held in her hands. Three days in the New Forest, and she had never felt more relaxed. _

_She stared at the dancing flames with her bright green eyes, letting her mind wander. The summer was almost over and that meant that in the next few weeks she would have to go back to University. _

"_Sarah?"_

_She turned, smiled at the young man who had just appeared behind her. His long dark hair had been pulled back and his blue eyes sparkled. He wore a pair of jeans and a loose linen shirt, a pendant around his neck of Thor's Hammer._

"_Hi…" she gave him a smile, handed him an empty glass and the bottle of wine._

_He sat down beside her, poured himself a glass of wine. _

"_Cheers…"_

_The glasses clinked. She smiled at him, but the smile wasn't returned, at least not at first. For a moment, his eyes were cold. But then, he smiled widely at her and kissed her gently, putting his arm around her, and she was sure it was just the darkness playing tricks on her. As she snuggled into his chest, she sighed happily, hoping against hope that the moment would never end._

***

She sighed, realizing that the sun was finally rising. She hadn't slept a wink and felt awful, her tongue so dry due to the amount of alcohol that she had consumed the previous night. All around her, soldiers were rising from their slumber, groaning, swearing. The mixture of colours all around her gave her a sense of confusion, all blurred together. She felt sick, like she was about to vomit everywhere.

This was the fear starting to show itself. She had read the books, the accounts of the battle. She had even written her own thesis on the battle. She knew full well the scale of losses for the Royalist Army. She knew which generals would lose their lives. Her stomach backflipped and she groaned, bent over and retched.

Last nights alcohol came back to haunt her, spilling out of her stomach, burning her throat. It wouldn't stop. She retched, over and over again, clutching her stomach. The tears poured down her face, even when she had finished emptying her stomach.

She didn't want to lead Tillier's musket block into the battle. She didn't want to lead them to their deaths.

And she knew that some of them would die today.

Sniffing, she steadied herself and stood up, determined on finding something to eat. Yet she knew she would have to put herself in the mindset of a commander and keep the morale of her soldiers up. Yet, they weren't soldiers. They were university students, government workers, office workers. The only way they had been trained to fight was on a pretend battlefield. She knew that their courage would fail. And it was her job to make sure that didn't happen.

Clutching the halberd tightly, she spotted John Seal, the regiments new commanding officer and made her way over. If anything, he looked as pale as she felt. In his hands, he clutched his old pewter tankard and she could smell the whiskey that it held as she got closer. Dutch courage. He had the right idea. Sighing, she sat down next to him.

"Are you ok John?"

He looked at her and nodded, "As well as I suppose I can be…I'm more worried about that lot…"

She nodded, "They're not soldiers…not trained for this…"

"I wouldn't be surprised if they turned tail and fled right now…"

"I know I would if I were in their shoes…"

He nodded, "As would I. Although, I am not afraid to die. I have lived my life, learned everything I wanted to learn…it's just, there are so many young lives in this regiment…they do not deserve to die…"

She gave him a small smile, "None of us deserve to die John…but we must lead them…I don't want to…but we must. I will go and talk to them…and try and blag some breakfast as well…"

He gave her a warm smile and a nod, saying nothing more. She stood up, straightened her regimental jacket and walked over to where her musket block were standing, eating freshly baked bread. Kate, Beth, Charles, Pippa, paul, Omar, Tim. They were all there, all looking completely terrified. As she neared them, she received no smiles, no hello. Instead, she was just handed a piece of bread and a tankard of ale. The silence was deafening.

After a moment, she spoke, "Guys…I know you're scared…I am too…I don't want to lead you into that battle. But I have to. I want you all to fight hard. I know we're not from this time, but we're here to fight for Lord Hopton, and our king. We're all terrified, but we know what we're doing…"

She fell into silence once more, seeing the looks of admiration on her blocks faces. Draining her ale, she turned to see the rest of the regiment getting lined up along with the rest of the Royalist Army. It was almost time.

"All right guys, lets get into our ranks and files. Luke, can you pass me my musket please?"

He nodded, and passed her the gun. She took it gratefully, conscious that in a matter of moments she would likely be firing to kill. As she stood back and watched the block sort themselves out, she felt an incredibly sense of pride. They all looked so smart, glad all in their green and grey with muskets by their sides. She gave them a wide smile and looked along the lines and lines of Royalist soldiers. Musket, Pike and Horse, all ready to fight for their king.

"ORDER YOUR MUSKETS!"

She was shocked at how loud and commanding her voice sounded, shocked at how the block did the order in perfect time with each other. They really looked the business. She stood in front of them, faced them with her new commanding tunic. Yet instead of the halberd, she carried her trusty musket, determined that she would fight with them.

From this moment on she was Colonal Samuel Young.

"Today, we fight for our king! We fight for what is right! I see those parliamentarian bastards over the way, they will try and take us down! We will not let them! FOR THE KING!"

The chant went up in waves and she felt a surge of adrenaline as the Lord Hopton ride past on his massive white Stallion. As he passed, everything went silent. Sarah stared at him in awe, watched with wide eyes as he stopped in front of her block.

"Colonal Young…"

She jumped slightly, bowed and cocked her hat, "My Lord?"

"We will take the woodland back from Waller. I want your musketeers up there with Colonel Appleyard"

She nodded, "Yes Sir…"

She felt the butterflies in her stomach as he gave her a regal nod and rode on. This was where she could prove that the Royalists were indeed capable of winning. She turned back to the block and gave them a wide smile.

"You heard the Lord Hopton! SHOULDER YOUR MUSKETS!"

Once more, everything was done in unison. She nodded at them and stepped forward. This was the moment where Henry Tillier's Regiment of Foote, a regiment of the Sealed Knot, would be tested beyond their limits. This was where they found out whether they would live or die. She prepared herself for a moment, prepared herself for the possibility that she would never get home. After a moment, she took a deep breath.

"MARCH ON!"


	5. Sigarets and Alcohol

**FIVE**

**29****th**** March 2008**

"Where the hell are we?"

The gruff Irish voice of Colonel Henry Tillier echoed throughout the Sealed Knot campsite. He stepped forward, gazing through the rain at the seas of funny coloured tents. He gazed back at his men, all of them bedraggled and looking as confused as he felt.

"Witchcraft sir…"

He nodded. Something strange was going on here. This was not London. Why were those tents all bright colours? What was that strange metal beast on wheels? There were people about, all dressed in soldiers gear. Yet, was that a member of the Earl of Manchester's regiment? And, why was he talking to a member of Prince Rupert's Lifeguards?

"Witchcraft indeed…" he muttered, walking towards where the Royalist and the Roundhead were talking together, "Excuse me gentlemen?"

They looked up and the member of Rupert's grinned, "You all right mate? Haven't seen Tillier's lot all day since the incident on the battlefield…"

Henry Tillier frowned. Incident on the battlefield? What incident was this?, "Where are we?"

The Rupert's man raised an eyebrow, "You must have had a bit of a knock to the head mate…this is Cheriton…you know…Tillier's own muster?"

Henry shook his head, "What do you mean? My regiment were not ordered to Cheriton, we are supposed to be in London."

The Rupert's man shook his head and reached into the pocket of his breeches, pulled out a small white box with gold writing on. Henry stared at it in awe, eyes widening as the man pulled out a small white stick. The box was held out to him and with shaking hands he took one out and held it in front of him, studying it intently. It was long, and one end was a strange brown colour. He sniffed it, and it smelt strangely like his tobacco pipe.

"Have you never seen a cigarette before?"

Henry raised an eyrbow, "Sig – ar – et?"

The man from Ruperts held out a small coloured device that had a flame come out of the top of it, making Henry jump back.

"WITCHCRAFT!"

The Ruperts man laughed, "Dude, you're weird…"

He used the devil flame to light his own sig-ar-et and Henry watched as the end glowed and the man breathed it in. All of a sudden, the sweet smell of tobacco filled the air. He held his own white stick out to the man, who laughed and lit the end for him. Henry brought the stick up to his lips and sucked, breathing in the tobacco. He coughed violently and dropped the stick.

"THAT IS WITCHCRAFT! DEVIL TOBACCO! THIS IS ALL WITCHCRAFT!"

"dude, come sit down. I'll go find Rich and he'll sort you out…"

Henry shook his head, "What year is this?"

The man from Rupert's raised an eyebrow, "It's 2008…"

Henry Tillier blinked. 2008? How was that possible. The rest of his men had gone silent, some of them smoking pipes, all of them in shock. Did that mean the war was over? That the King had won? He turned away from the man in Rupert's and massaged his head. After a moment he turned back and tried a smile.

"My friend…I fear you will believe me mad if I tell you where my men and I are from. But come, let us find an alehouse, and you must tell me everything about this year…and this…witchcraft…"

***

Paul Martin, Musketeer in Prince Ruperts Regiment couldn't help but grin at the strange man with the Irish accent as he stared at the chip from every angle possible. It was as if he had never seen a chip before, or a pizza. It had been even worse when he had seen the pint glass. The poor man's eyes had almost popped out of his very skull as he lifted it up and stared intently as the way the beer moved. Yet his eyes had lit up when he had tasted the ale.

"What is this thing?"

Paul grinned, "It's called a chip, made of potato?"

The man, whose name was apparently Henry Tillier raised an eyebrow, "A potato chip? That is the strangest thing I have ever heard in my life…but it's genius I tell you!"

Paul shook his head. This guy had obviously taken a bad knock when everything had gone tits up on the battlefield earlier that day. The explosion had been a big one, and Paul had seen one of the young ladies fall to the ground like a dead weight. After the smoke had cleared, no one could see Tillier's regiment anywhere. Had it been part of the theatrics? He certainly thought so at the time, but after seeing this guy, Paul wasn't so sure.

"Are you sure you're ok mate? I mean…I thought everyone knew what a chip was…?"

Henry looked up, "Oh yes my friend, well…confused I suppose. We have none of these amazing things back home…I mean…those beasts on wheels that move without horses? A-MAY-ZING!"

He popped the chip in his mouth and swallowed it whole, finishing with an overly large grin, "I like this ale house. Good food, good ale and very nice women…"

His gaze stopped on a busty young lady sat at the bar of the _Hinton Arms_ and Paul couldn't help the shudder that ran through him upon seeing the leery look on Henry's face. Something was not right at all, that was for sure.

"Dude…please…can you just explain what is going on inside that head of yours? You seemed well shocked when I said it was 2008…and calling everything witchcraft?"

Henry tore his gaze away from the woman and grinned, "Oh? It is supposed to be the year of our lord sixteen hundred and forty four…that is all. I think I must be dreaming…"

Pauls head began to swim. Surely this guy wasn't being serious? Surely he'd just taken a bad knock to the head during the battle? But something about the whole situation told him that what Henry was saying was right. Was that why no one could find Richard or Blabber, why none of the usual Tilliers lot were about, just those weird acting guys who smelt like the back end of a horse? And if Henry Tillier was here, did that mean that the modern day Tilliers regiment were in 1644 Cheriton…and on the verge of fighting a battle they were bound to lose?


	6. And the Lanes Ran With Blood

**CHERITON 29****th**** MARCH 1644 9.30am**

Sarah squinted through the sulpherous smoke towards the large oak tree. Behind it, a member of the London Trained Bands. She could hardly see with all the smoke, hardly hear with all the guns going off around her. And she could hardly make herself heard admidst the noise.

"FREE FIRE!"

Maybe it was best to let them get on with it. They were trained, drilled to a high standard and knew what they were doing. She just wished that Richard had not put her in charge. Ramming home the scouring stick, she brought the gun up, squinted down it until she had the enemy in her sights. Then, squeezing the trigger, she winced as her trusty matchlock gave a furious bang and watched as the parliamentarian crumpled to the floor, dead.

There was no time to feel guilt though, that would come later. No time to feel any sort of remorse over the fact she had just killed a man. She had to get her men together. All of a sudden a cry went up from all around her.

"GOD WITH US!"

It seemed to be coming from everywhere. She wheeled around, trying to peer through the dark woodlands at who was shouting it. It seemed to be everyone. Once more, the shout went up, making her jump almost out of her own skin. Who was shouting it? It had to be her side surely? Not that parliamentarian musketeer in the red coat?

It was then that she realized that both sides were shouting the same thing. Her head span, was that the after effects of the alcohol? She felt sick. What was going on?

She was brought back to the present by a musket butt to her back. She sank to her knees in pain, dazed and slightly confused. Turning her head slightly, she saw a red coated parliamentarian raise the butt of his musket to hit her once again. She closed her eyes, knowing that this was it, the next hit would probably be the last.

"OI!"

She opened her eyes, looking upwards frantically. Stood there, kitted out like a dragoon, was Luke. And he looked angry, his sword held menacingly in front of him.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY COMMANDER BITCH!"

She gasped as he ran the sword through the commanders chest, felt warm blood splatter her face. Then a hand in front of her, offering to help her up.

"Are you ok?"

She shook her head, "I hate this Luke…we need to get out of here…"

He nodded, "I know we do…but unless we're killed or captured, we've still got a whole day of fighting to go…"

He pulled her out of the way of a volley of msket fire, into a large hollow in the trunk of an oak tree, "You need to hold on Sarah…you're our commander…"

She shook her head, felt the tears building up, "I can't do this Luke…I killed a man…"

He pulled her into a hug, "So have we all…come on, pull yourself together…"

The tears were falling freely by now, "I should just shout out in front of Hopton that I'm a woman and deal with the consequences! I CANNOT DO THIS! Look at them…" she pointed over to where her block were fighting hand to hand with the enemy, just as Pippa and Kate both fell with sword blades through them. She began to shake, "They're all dying…we're supposed to win this part…but look at us! We're not trained for this, we are ALL going to die!"

He hugged her harder, gently stroking her hair which had come loose. As he gazed down at her small form, he was reminded of how he had once felt for her. He shook his head, desperate to get the images out of his head, but they just wouldn't go. He remembered their holiday in the New Forest, the time he had stayed with her over his graduation, their many trips to historical sites. He sighed loudly, feeling her sob against his chest. He couldn't rekindle that flame, not now, not after what he had done to her. All he could do was give her the encouragement she needed to get back on her feet and fight the day through to its end.

"My Gods I need a cigarette…"

He grinned and reached into his snapsack, pulling out a freshly rolled cigarette. He handed it to her with a small smile, "Smoke it in here…might be considered witchcraft if you smoke it out there."

She laughed, gratefully taking the white stick off him. She lit it, using her trusty zippo, again something that would be considered witchcraft if it was seen, and inhaled the fumes. Almost immediately she felt calmer, letting the nicotine soak into her lungs, "You have no idea how much I needed that…Pipe tobacco just doesn't do it for me…"

He laughed, "You do realize you're smoking around gunpowder right?"

She shrugged, "If we're gunna die, might as well do it doing something we want to…" she handed him the half smoked cigarette, let him take a few drags on it.

Outside, the wood was carnage. Dead bodies littered the cold ground, shouts went up. Different shouts now. It looked as if Parliament had started shouting 'jesus with us'. At least it made things easier. Sighing, she took one final drag on the cigarette and flicked it away from her.

"Time to go back?"

He nodded, "I think so, Sir."

She gavehim a small smile and wiped her eyes with the bloody sleeve of her jacket, "Ok…cool. Let's just get through this…and we'll see what the rest of the day bring…"

She sighed once more and stood up, ducking her way out of the tree trunk. Luke couldn't help but smile as he watched her run back towards the block, her bravery and courage suddenly showing through. He saw her reform the block and shout the command to make ready. Grinning widely, he followed her suit and ran back to the block, taking his place in the front row next to Omar and began loading his musket. This was the way things were supposed to be. All the time he watched Sarah, proud to be serving with her.

"ENEMY TO YOUR FORE…PRESENT!"

Her voice rang out throughout the woodland, louder than anything else. He laughed loudly as the enemy stopped in their tracks, in awe of this small but loud musket commander.

"GIVE…FIRE!"


	7. Against Gods Good Grace

Musketeer James Stukely sighed, ducking behind a tree trunk as a musket ball whizzed past his head. This was not going well, and if the battle continued in this way, then Parliament would lose this fight. He removed his felt hat and brushed his long hair back. It had all come loose from its tie and was annoying him immensely. His eyes swept over the chaotic woodland battlefield, and his eyes stopped on a young man in a green jacket. He was separated from the rest of his block, and was cowering behind a tree. Yet, this guy was a Royalist, why was he thinking of going over and helping him?

James watched as the young man swept his hat off and couldn't help the gasp that escaped him. That was no man, but a woman. An incredibly beautiful woman. Her hair, long and golden, fell down across her shoulders. Her skin. Although covered in gunpowder smudges, dirt and blood, was the whitest of whites. Her eyes, even from where he was he could see that her eyes were the brightest of greens he had ever seen.

But why was a woman fighting in the musket block?

Scrambling over to where she sat, he slid in beside her and couldn't help but smile as she jumped, "Hello there…"

She raised an eyebrow and as she spoke, james couldn't help but melt at the sound of her voice, "Who are you? Look like parliament to me…"

He shrugged, "And you're a royalist…it's not stopping me from talking to you. That, and I wondered what a woman was doing fighting out here…I'm James Stukely by the way…"

She laughed, "If I told you what I was doing out here, you would never believe me. Either that or you'd think I was crazy and have me carted off to an asylum or something…"

"Fair enough…can I ask you something? Why the Royalists?"

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "Again, you would never believe me. Look, James, whoever the fuck you are…I wanna get out of here. I cannot do this anymore. Look at my men…" she pointed at the five members that were left of Tilliers musket block, "By the end of this skirmish, there will be no one left…."

"PARLIAMENT WITHDRAW!"

James looked up, "Oh Jesus Christ, looks like I've gotta run…"

He jumped up, but was stopped by a hand on his jacket, "Will I see you again?"

He smiled at her, "I'm sure we'll meet again…"

She returned the smile, "Listen…please…don't mention that I'm a girl…to anyone will you? It's just…if Hopton finds out, I'm kinda dead…"

He grinned and gave her a small bow, "Until next time we meet, fair lady…"

She watched as he ran off, couldn't help the smile that was on her face. She was too busy watching the handsome young man run back to his block, that she didn't see the entirety of the Royalist force throw down their weapons and celebrate.

"SARAH!"

She looked up, saw the figure of Luke running over, "What?"

He grinned, "We've done in! Parliament have run from the wood!"

She sighed and stood up, "But what has it cost us?" She cast her gaze over the remainder of Tilliers musket block and blinked back tears, "So many of us gone…Pippa, kate, Steve…who is left huh? You, me, Beth…" she trailed off, feeling unable to keep the list going, "And besides, we may have won this part, but what about the rest of the battle? We ARE going to lose!"

He nodded, "I know…but we can't desert now…"

She shrugged, "I am NOT going to die here Luke…" she turned to her remaining block and sighed, "TILLIERS REFORM!"

She hardly noticed as the block reformed, her mind was on that young man whom had spoken to her earlier. How could she command the block, or what was left of it, when all she could think about was him? But no. She had to be strong for her men. The time to rest, and think about that man would come later. That was if they weren't all dead.

"Mr Stukely?"

James looked up, placing his musket to order, straight into the eyes of the Lord General William Waller. He immediately bowed his head.

"My Lord?"

"The musket commander in the Green Jacket, fighting for the King? Who is he?"

James shook his head, his gaze on the block of green clad musketeers facing them down the field, "I don't know his name my lord…" he coughed, "But he commands the Musket of Henry Tilliers Regiment…"

Waller nodded, gently stroking the neck of his horse, "I see. Capture him, I want his expertise in your regiment…"

James watched as he rode off, his stomach backflipping in disdain. He almost felt sick. That musket commander was no man, but the most beautiful woman he had ever met in his life. How could he capture her, when if she was found out, she would surely be executed?

The time for battle was almost near. To his right was Arthur Hesselridge's Lobster Regiment, clad all in their shiny cuirasser armour. To his left…well he didn't know who was to his left. Nor did he really care.

The shout to make ready was given, and he loaded up his musket, porting when ready. Now was the time for battle. Who knew what the outcome would be? He just prayed that the Royalist woman would be all right.


	8. Alas, the evil that is Civil War

All around her the battle raged, the drums beat continuously, orders were shouted. She was confused, trying desperately to keep her small musket block together. Once more, she had gotten rid of the Halberd and joined them in the fighting. Which just made it all the more confusing. She was giving orders, loading at the same time, and then firing. Her head swam with all the different colours around her.

The opposing block were so huge, and very well drilled. Their bright blue coats almost frightened her, and they were advancing at such a fast rate.

"CLUB YOUR BUTTS GUYS!"

Hand to hand, probably one of the most dangerous things they would do that day. Many of the opposition had swords as well as their guns, and they could cause damage. To her left, Colonel Bard's men were storming forwards. She hadn't realized it was that time already. In a blind panic she looked at them, saw Hesselridge's lobsters advance, cutting down each and every one of them. Heads were lost, blood flew in all directions and soon, the field was running with blood. She heard orders for regiments to go and help.

"It is useless…" she whispered to herself. Yet she couldn't say anything. She looked at where the Lord Hopton was, and swore she could see a look of complete defeat on his face. All around them, people were dying. Lord John Stuart had already been gravely injured and taken from the field. And Tillier's were the only people on the field who knew what was going to happen to him.

All of a sudden, she found herself face to face with the enemy. She felt as of she was back on the re-enactment field of battle, just with an extra bit of added danger. And the fact that she had to kill some people. Roaring, she raised the butt of her musket and pushed her way through the opposing block. She drew her sword as well, hardly noticing as she cut through flesh, hardly noticing as blood splattered itself over her face.

It was as if she was fighting behind a curtain of rage. She would stop for nothing. If she had to die, this is where she wanted it to be. Perhaps someone back in 2008 would carry on with her work on this battlefield, and she was proud to think that she had fought there.

But something made her stop and look up. Stood directly in front of her, clear amongst the haze of gunpowder and stuffling noise of the battle, was the young man from earlier. He gave her a small smile, which she returned. It was as if they were in a world of their own. He walked forward,

"I'm sorry…"

"What for?"

"Waller has ordered me to take you…"

She gasped, stepping backwards, "NO!"

But there was nothing she could do. He advanced on her, sword drawn. She brought up her musket, and tried fighting him off, but he overpowered her too easily.

Something connected with her head and the world went blurry. She felt her knees buckle, and saw the ground get closer and closer. And then, there was only black.

***

29th March 2008

Henry Tillier gazed at the beast in amazement. What was this thing, this cart with no horses that was as large as a house. Surely it must be possessed by the devil? These things were everywhere, not only these huge monstrosities but smaller ones as well, ones with two wheels that buzzed like a wasp. He glanced at his ensign, who was also gazing at the beast with wide eyes.

"Is it witchcraft Sir?"

Henry shrugged, "Paul says not. Yet I do not believe him. These things cannot move on their own without some form of devilish intervention…I suggest we find a church, and pray for our souls…"

The ensign only nodded, too confused about this strange world to argue with his commander. In fact Henry had seen a church and was making his way there all too hastily, dodging passers by who were giving them strange looks and those strange contraptions that moved on their own. He followed his commander quickly, not wanting to be left behind somewhere strange.

And then there, the church. A big blue sign was outside it, with big gold letters.

"St Lawrence's Church…"

Henry Tillier frowned. He had heard the name of this church before. But he still walked quickly up to the open doors.

But what he found inside shocked him to the core. This was no Roman Catholic Church. Where were all the images of the saints? Where were the stained glass windows? Surely this place was not full of heretics as well? No, maybe this was one of those churches destroyed by Henry VIII all those years ago.

But there, at the front of the church, was a priest. He stood up, ran forward and grabbed the man in the black cassock by the shoulders, "Father, help me…what faith is this? What denomination of church?"

The priest smiled and shook Henry's hands off his shoulders, "It's a protestant church sir, Church of England…"

"Not Roman Catholic?"

The priest shook his head, "Oh no…the Catholic church is further in town. May I ask why you are dressed like that? Were you part of the re-enactment at Cheriton?"

"Yes…yes…" Henry shook his head, "You say protestant…you mean, reformist? Lutheran?"

"Well in a way I suppose so. The Anglican church stemmed from Henry VIII's beliefs in reform back in the 1500's. This is one of those churches I suppose…why is it so important?"

By now, Henry was getting angry, "Why is it so IMPORTANT? This is a church of HERESY! This whole world is formed by the devil!"

He stormed forward, grabbed the plain and simple cross from the altar and flung it across the room, making it crash into the pews. The priest ducked in fear.

"My King would be horrified to hear of this. I will see that you burn in the fires of hell Sir, and join the heretics to whom you belong!"

And without another word, he stormed from the church building, crossing himself over and over again. His ensign sighed, glancing at the priest in fear, before quickly following the Commander out.


	9. It starts to crumble

**30****th**** March 1644**

She woke with a pounding head, as if someone had hit her too hard with a two by four. But she was laid on a comfortable bed, beneath silky sheets and for a moment, she thought she was at home, in her own bed. She opened her eyes, her vision blurred for a moment, but as it cleared she found herself in a very grand room. Oak furniture lined the oak lined walls, a giant sheepskin rug on the paneled floor. The bed she was in was four postered, and on the bedside table was a white and blue china jug and bowl.

Something wasn't right.

She struggled to sit up and push back the silky bed covers. Upon doing so, she found she was no longer dressed in her uniform, but a grand dress, much like her banqueting gown. She frowned and stood up on unsteady feet, moving over to the grand window and looking out. What she saw almost made her gasp. The house she was in was huge, and her room evidently on the top floor. As she looked out, she saw acres and acres of beautifully kept gardens. There were people bustling about, all in some kind of uniform. Maids carried washing, whilst soldiers stood guard at the gates.

Behind her, the bedroom door opened with a creak. She turned, and saw an elderly woman in a plain black dress, with a cream apron over the top, "Ah, you're awake miss, I am glad to see that…"

Sarah smiled, "Where am i?"

"In the house of the General William Waller my lady. He says I am to bring to straight to him, if you are well enough?"

The house of William Waller? What on earth had happened at Cheriton? Her mind had gone blank. The last thing she remembered was seeing that young man, and then nothing. Evidently she had been captured on the battlefield, but for what purpose? By now, they would know she was a woman…and now she would have to face William Waller.

She nodded, "All right…"

The old woman gave her a slight smile, and held the door open, expecting Sarah to go out first.

"Please, you go first…I don't know where I'm going…"

The woman nodded, and lead the way down the grand corridors, towards what Sarah assumed would be her death sentence.

***

James Stukely sighed as he sat beside William Waller. It felt strange to be back among civilized living, strange to be wearing his grander clothes. They were waiting for the young lady to come down from her bed chambers, the young lady which up until a few hours ago, had been thought to be a man. Waller had not been happy when he had found this out, demanding to know why a woman had been allowed to fight in the army.

There came a knock at the door and Waller looked up, "Come!" his voice boomed around the room.

The door cracked open and a small figure in a long green dress stepped through. James gasped aloud, she looked absolutely stunning. Her hair, once covered in grime and blood now hung loose across her shoulders and shone like sunlight. She was clean now as well, her skin as white as white could be. The only thing was her eyes. When he had met her before, they had glinted with some kind of fire. Now, they just looked dull.

She closed the door softly behind her and walked forward. She did not bow before Waller or give any indication that she had seen James. And all the while, he could see Waller's face going redder and redder.

"What is your name girl?!"

She crossed her arms, "Why should I tell a ditrty parliamentarian my name? It will just be used against me, and my regiment!"

Waller stood up, by now incredibly angry. He stormed forward and grabbed the girl by the throat. James gripped the arms of his chair so hard that his knuckles went white.

Waller curled his lip and got right in the girls face, his voice low and dangerous, "Your name…Girl!"

She winced away from his putrid breath, "Sarah Young, Sir…"

James almost darted forward and swept her away in his arms in that one single moment. Her voice, so low and fearful made him want to take her away from all of this, forever.

Waller nodded and let go of her throat, "Good. Lady Young, tell me, what were you doing fighting in the army? The mans army?"

She shrugged, "You would never believe me if I told you."

He raised an eyebrow, "Never believe you? Try me. I have heard all the excuses under the sun."

She sighed, evidently afraid that she would be hit if she defied him once more, "You would have me burn…"

Waller stepped forward, "Why? Are you a witch? A witch sent by King Charles to harm my cause?"

She shook her head, "No…" she was obviously fighting to come up with a believable excuse, "I was forced into it…my father…he made me promise that I would fight for the king…he made me promise while he was on his death bed…so I did…"

"And you command the musket division in Tilliers Regiment?"

She shrugged, "Not any more…"

Waller laughed, "No indeed, not any more. But I have seen your skill on the battlefield. You are exceptionally well drilled, and you know how to raise morale. Your musket work is second to none. Let me think of what I will do with you…in the mean time, I place you under the warship of James Stukely…you will return with him to his house while I think of the best course of action"

She looked up sharply, straight into his eyes. He gave her a slight nod and smile, which she did not return. She hardly noticed as she was dismissed from the hall, only aware when James grabbed her arm and spun her around.

"Why were you so defiant towards him? He could have you killed!"

She pushed him away, "You think I don't know that? Jesus Christ James, I was scared for my life in there! I know what happened to women who were found fighting in the armies, I have read about it…"

She sighed, and looked him in the eyes, "Tell me, how many of my men were lost at the battle?"

He gently lead her out of the building and into the garden. The weather was beautiful, if a little cold. The sky was blue and the sun shone, whilst the birds sang in the trees, "Not many of them came out alive my lady…I heard reports that Tilliers musket were one of the worst hit…with maybe only three or four coming out of it…I'm not sure about pike…"

She sobbed, her hand at her mouth. Nearly all of them gone. What about Omar? And Luke? She looked at him with tears in her eyes, "No…"

"I am sorry my lady…"

"I should have been out there with them. Instead, I let them die on their own… tell me…a northern lad with long curly hair, was he killed?"

James shook his head, "I don't know…I can find out the list of casualties for you if you like?"

She nodded and wiped her eyes, "Thank you…"

He gave her a small smile, "I'm sorry I had to hit you around the head…"

She laughed and waved the comment away. The truth was, in a way she was glad he had taken her. She wasn't sure how she could have coped seeing her friends die so horrifically. The thought of it made her want to be sick. But this place was so beautiful.

"It is a beautiful place isn't it…"

She looked at James who was looking around the spring garden with a slight smile on his face. She nodded, "It is. It will be a shame to leave…"

He grinned, "But my house is better…"

"Oh really?" she couldn't help the amusement in her voice

He nodded, "Yes indeed. It is bigger, and older. The gardens are much better tended by my servants…and of course…I am there…"

Laughing, she gently pushed him. He smiled widely at her before taking her hand and kissing it, and she felt the blush creep up from her breast, to her neck and face.

"You are beautiful my lady…"

"Oh hardly…"

He looked up at her, "You are. I am surprised you have not had lines of men queuing up and vying for your attention?"

She shook her head, "Not little old me…listen…I'm not from here. I know it sounds strange, but trust me. Here, I have no standing. Here, I was just a lowly soldier fighting for the King of England. I am not a noble, and I do not deserve all this attention from you. I am happy to be placed in your wardship. But know, Mr Stukely, that all I want is news of my men…"

He sighed and let go of her hand, giving her a slight bow, "As you wish my lady. Come, the servants will have packed your things…let us return to my house."

She nodded and followed him through the garden. Yet her mind was on her home. By now it would have been noticed that they were missing. Would the police have been called? Would posters have been put up. She bit back tears and wondered if she would ever see her family again. Even now she could hardly remember what her mothers face looked like, could hardly remember the faces of her friends at university. The tears were falling freely by now, and she knew they wouldn't stop, not for a long time. She had left behind everything familiar to her, everything she knew. Her archaeology course would mean nothing now, her work on the battlefield at Cheriton left unfinished. She felt sorry for everyone who would have to deal with all the trouble her disappearance would have caused, all the paperwork involved.

She was craving a cigarette, but her snapsack had been left in the bedroom and had likely been packed. She wondered whether James would have a pipe, and for a moment considered asking him. But then remembered that women probably wouldn't have been allowed to smoke in this period. She would have to wait until they got to wherever it was they were going before smoking a roll up in secret.

She wondered whether Omar was alive. And she prayed to God that she was. If she found out Omar was dead, she didn't know what she would do to herself. But knowing Omar, she had survived and was busy having a laugh with the numbers of Tilliers that were left alive, sat drinking around a campfire. Yet, this wasn't the Sealed Knot. How likely was it that they were sat around a campfire drinking tins of real ale? It was more likely that they were sat in a disgusting ale house drinking tankards of badly made ale and eyeing up the local whores. If Dan and Owen were alive, then they were likely down the local brothel already.

She couldn't help but smile at that. Those two really were the typical lads of Tilliers. Although, Owen was engaged, and she wondered what Denise was feeling like now he had disappeared seemingly from the face of the earth. And what about the children left behind? Phoebe, Katie and Sophie had all been left in 2008. What were they thinking?

She wiped her eyes again, determined not to let James see her like this. He thought of her as the brave Musket commander, not some silly little girl. Granted, she had been a mess on the battlefield, but she had still stood with her men where it mattered.

Just ahead of her now was the carriage, loaded up with trunks, like something she once saw on a historical TV drama. James offered her his hand as he climbed into the back of the carriage. She took it gratefully and sat down next to him, hardly noticing as it started moving. She heard the sound of the horses hooves and the rumble of the wheels, and suddenly she felt she was really here, in 1644. A slight smile crept over her face. She could turn this whole situation to her advantage, she was sure of it. Now all that remained to be seen was how she was going to do it. How she was going to turn everything to her advantage and get her, and the remainder of her men back to 2008 where they belonged. It would be hard work, but she had never given up on a challenge before. The first thing to do, was to get this young man on her side.

She turned to him, "James…you don't have any tobacco do you?"


	10. Introducing Master Sexby

"So what do you think?"

Sarah couldn't help but smile as her eyes travelled over her new room. It was beautiful, with its polished oak floor boards and four poster bed. All the furniture was a beautiful dark mahogany wood, and the view from the window fell on a stunning stretch of beautifully kept lawn.

She turned to James and smiled, "It's beautiful! I've never seen anywhere so amazing!"

He laughed, "It is yours my lady…"

She smiled, looked at the floor in embarrassment, "Thank you…but…I do not deserve this…"

James Stukely laughed again, "My Lady, you do…someone as beautiful as you deserves the world. I will leave you to unpack and freshen yourself…"

She watched as he disappeared from the room, before jumping on the huge double bed. The mattress was so soft, the silk sheets almost making her almost slide off. She giggled out loud, wondering what she had done to deserve such treatment. After all, she was a prisoner of parliament, and surely should be kept in a dungeon somewhere.

After a moment, she stood up again and walked over to the window, the heels of her patent leather boots clicking on the polished wood floor. As she gazed out of the window across the grounds, she saw someone ride in through the main gates on a beautiful brown steed. She watched as the man dismounted, noticed how good his clothing was. Even from such a distance, she could see that he wore a red jacket with gold stripes, a leather buff coat, a pair of black bucket topped boots and a very nice hat. She couldn't help the smile that crept over her face as she watched him walk into the front doors of the manor, and wondered who exactly this man was.

***

"Sexby!"

James Stukely embraced the man with a smile, clapping him on the back.

"It is good to see you Edward!"

Edward Sexby nodded, and removed his hat, revealing a face scarred by conflict, covered by shoulder length dark brown hair. He was not old, far from it, yet his hair was streaked with grey. It was as if his years of fighting in wars had aged him somewhat.

"You too James…it is good to escape battle once in a while…Cheriton was…" he sighed, "Cheriton was not the nicest of experiences…"

James nodded, his brow furrowing, "I know. I was there don't forget…in fact…I have someone here who also fought there…"

"The woman?"

James nodded again, "Yes…she is…exceptional to say the least, fought like a beast from the pits of hell when I tried to take her. And her regiment obviously thought a lot of her, the way they tried to fight me off…"

Sexby sighed, "Was it really such a wise idea taking her? I am surprised Waller did not have her executed…"

"He wanted to…"

Edward Sexby nodded, "I am not surprised…a woman fighting?"

James raised an eyebrow, "I didn't think that bothered you?"

Sexby said nothing, just gave his coat to the young servant boy stood close by. After a moment, he looked at James, "I would like to meet her…"

"I will invite her to dine with us…"

Without another word, James Stukely turned around and walked away chewing his lip. How could this vagabond show an interest in a woman he had never met? And worse still, how could he show an interest in the woman whom he had plans for? He sighed, wishing that dinner time would never come.

***

Sarah felt nervous, more than nervous, as she sat at the long dining table with a plate of barely touched food in front of her. She had been forced into coming to dine with these men whom she hardly knew, and felt like she was a school girl again. One of them, a man who she had never seen before, was sat opposite her. His dark hair with streaks of grey fell across his shoulders, framing a scared face that made her think he was truly handsome. So far, he had said nothing to her, the only conversation had been directed between the two men about various battles, and beliefs in what parliament stood for. Sighing, she drained her glass of wine, and gestured for the servant to refill it, smiling at the red liquid sloshed into the glass.

"Edward, may I introduce to you, Sarah Young?"

She looked up, hearing her name, and noticed the scarred man looking at her. She gave him a slight smile, before looking down at her plate of untouched food once more.

"The famous Colonel Young? I hear he was very brave at Cheriton?"

She blushed, "I did what I had to…"

The man raised an eyebrow, "I'm sure you did Madam, yet you were still captured."

She recoiled slightly, hurt at the comment, "You think that because I am a woman, I could not fight?"

"Not at all, I have known many feisty women…"

She frowned, and quickly downed her glass of wine, needing the comfort that alcohol could bring. This man, this man who she had thought would be charming, was in fact an ignorant pig. She went quiet once more, noticing the way both he and James looked at her, obviously thinking that they could both entice her into bed. Sighing to herself, she stood up, "If you don't mind, I would like some fresh air…"

She didn't wait for a response, instead pushed her chair back with a deafening screech and stalking from the room.


End file.
